Night Falls
by All Mimsy Were The Borogoves
Summary: Brienne comes to Winterfell and Tormund finally has the chance to talk to her ... and talking leads to much, much more. Smut ensues. ** This story has been updated somewhat to reflect the events of Season 7**
1. Chapter 1

_So this is Winterfell,_ Brienne thought.

As soon as Jon Snow had stormed through the gates of the castle and reclaimed his family's home, she had received a letter from Sansa, asking for her to return to the Starks and help them in their coming battles, whatever those might be. She and Pod had immediately set out for Winterfell, because she felt it was her duty - to Catelyn Stark, but also to the cause of setting things right in the Seven Kingdoms.

And so here she was, late this evening, reclining in bed in one of Winterfell's many rooms. There was a warm fire going in the hearth and it helped take the chill out of the room, so much so that she had removed all her armor and her clothes and was lying with just a blanket to cover her. Truth be told, it felt good to be so unencumbered - to be free of her heavy armor, and to shed the garments that she had been wearing for weeks.

But this break in her questing - what felt like relaxation after months of duty to the Starks, and surely more to come - also made her uneasy. She felt as though she still had to be alert and ready for battle at any moment, as if danger lurked around every corner. She was anxious and tense.

And so, when she heard a noise outside of her door, her body immediately sprung into action. She gathered up the blanket around her with one hand, leapt out of bed, and grabbed her sword from where it was resting against the wall. She threw open the door and positioned herself in the hallway, sword yielded, for some kind of threat.

But it was no threat. It was him - that red-headed Wildling they called Tormund. The one she'd noticed was staring at her, several times, when they were at Castle Black and now that she'd come to Winterfell. It was unnerving to notice how much attention he paid her. She wasn't accustomed to men giving her any more of their time than necessary. But after some needling from Sansa, and his unyielding stares, she had begun to let herself indulge in the fantasy that he was interested in her, as a woman - that he was looking at her the way so many men looked at beautiful women, the way she'd seen eyes follow girls like Sansa across a room.

She never let herself dwell on these thoughts, though, because they couldn't be true. She'd been told, many times by many people, how unattractive she was. How men saw her as a lumbering beast, a woman trying to be a man, a woman who would never catch any man's attention. Those words stung at first, when she was younger, but she'd grown used to them by now. She didn't let them sting her now, but she could only protect herself if she refused to let her imagination wander. She couldn't bear to have hope about this man, only for him to cruelly reject her.

But now here he was, right outside her door, face to face with her. She realized this was the first time she'd ever been alone with him, without Jon or Sansa or anyone else in the room with them. And she looked absolutely ridiculous, clutching a sword and posed for a fight, wearing nothing but a blanket wrapped around her.

He looked momentarily concerned about the way she was wielding that sword, but soon his face broke into a grin. "Sorry, m'lady," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you. I couldn't sleep so I was taking a walk around the castle."

"Oh," she said stiffly. "Well carry on then."

Brienne turned to go back through the door to her room, but he didn't leave. After a moment he blurted out, "You look lovely this evening, m'lady."

She whipped around to face him. "Oh, that's funny, I'm sure," she spat out sarcastically. "Quite original. Can you leave me be now?"

He took a step toward her. "I wasn't joking. I've never seen you without all your armor and I think you look very nice." He grinned impishly. "Especially in nothing but that blanket."

She blushed, deeply. She'd never had a man say flattering things to her sincerely - let alone such suggestive things. She didn't know how to respond.

He was one step closer still. "I can leave if you want. But I can't pass up the chance, now that we're alone, to tell you what I've been wanting to say since you came to Castle Black." He paused. "Do with that what you like."

She didn't move. She was frozen in wonderment, not believing his words - that he could be speaking about her, Brienne, in this way. As if she were lovely. He was very close now, only inches from her, and this time she did not order him away.

And then he reached up, coiling his hands in the short chop of her hair, and pulled her face to his. His lips were on hers, and as his tongue brushed against them, she instinctively knew what to do, what she wanted, even though she had never kissed a man before. She opened her mouth to him, as she had waited for so long to do, and they pulled close to each other. Here she was, out in this hallway of Winterfell where anyone could come upon them, kissing him deeply like she was brand new to life.

She broke away from him, suddenly self-conscious and aware that they could be seen at any moment, that she was standing in the middle of the castle being overly familiar with this man she hardly knew while wearing nothing but a blanket. He looked at her, concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Not … not here," she said. "We shouldn't." She turned to head back into the room and there he was, following her inside. He closed the door decisively and came back around to her, taking her face in his hands again and continuing the kiss. Then slowly he moved her back, further into the room, and when they reached the bed her lowered her down so she was sitting.

His lips broke away and she was momentarily disappointed, until they found the skin on her neck and he began kissing her there. She gasped - she had no idea how delightful that could feel - and felt him smile against her skin. She was still clutching the blanket around her body, with a corner of the fabric balled up in a fist pressed against her waist to hold it together, but slowly his hand moved downward until it over hers, and then gently he pulled her hand away. The blanket fell off her body, pooling into a heap on the bed, and she was completely naked to him. _I should be embarrassed_ , she thought, but she wasn't - somehow it felt good, right here and now, to bare her entire self to him.

He paused for a moment to take off the furs and the shirt that were covering his torso and then returned to her. This time his lips pressed along her collarbone, kissing her there, and then moved downward. His tongue found her nipple and she surprised herself by groaning in delight. His hand was on her other nipple and he kept on like this, kissing and caressing her with his mouth, while desire flooded more and more though her blood. There was a sensation, almost an ache, she felt between her legs - one that she'd never felt so keenly until now, one that needed to be satisfied, and soon.

But then he stopped, pulled back, and looked her in the eyes. "We don't have to go no further," he said. "I can go on back to my own bed." She considered him, there before her with his chest bare and her breasts wet from his mouth and her body throbbing with want. She had a vague idea of what might come next, and she'd heard gossip from other women about the indignities that might be awaiting her if she said yes to him, but she was so far gone with desire that she didn't care. "No," she said. "I want to."

To her surprise, he shifted himself downward, until he was kneeling on the floor before her. She wondered what he might be doing as he gently pushed her legs apart - but then his arms were wrapping around her thighs and he lowered his face into her. Her body flooded with more pleasure that she could have ever imagined as he worked his mouth on her, steadily but firmly. There was one spot in particular, where that throbbing ache was pulsating from, that he was concentrating on. His tongue was cool and wet there, and as it mingled with her own surprising wetness she reveled in the sensation. She leaned back, bracing herself against the bed with her arms and throwing her head back in delight. She was moaning, and she didn't know how or when these noises had started escaping from her lips, but now she couldn't stop being so vocal about the way he was making her feel.

And he didn't stop - he just kept going, increasing the pressure as his tongue went faster on her. She felt something building up inside her, rolling forward without control as he kept on with what he was doing. And then suddenly she was losing control, her body engulfed in a wave of pleasure as she cried out loudly. She arched her back and her legs quivered as she threw her head backwards, closing her eyes as the wave crashed through her body, reaching every part of her.

She was panting, gasping, trying to catch her breath as he looked up at her, grinned - and then put his head back down and continued. She didn't know if her body could handle another round of delight like that, but soon she didn't care - the feeling of his mouth on her was amazing. Divine. She was moaning again, engulfed in pleasure, and soon he had taken her over the edge again, her body shaking against the last strokes of his tongue on her.

Finally he stood up to face her, placing one hand on her shoulder and slowly lowering her down until she was lying across the bed. In one swift movement he unlaced the ties on his fur britches and let them fall to the floor. He was aroused, she could see, very much so, and the sight of him large and stiff in front of her made the ache between her legs come flooding back to her, as if she hadn't already satisfied it twice, mere seconds ago. He was in front of her now, gently pressing against her, and then slowing easing himself into her.

It hurt, she couldn't lie, but the sting of him entering her was quickly overcome by the way he felt inside her. This was different than the last sensation - different but pleasant. Her desire was mounting again, this time stoked by every movement of him inside of her, every stroke in and out of her. She was gasping, trying to catch her breath as he moved faster and faster, and her control began slipping away from her again. And then suddenly she was tightening around him, one final wave of pleasure moving through her body as she arched against him and cried out, gripping his back tightly. That was all he needed to send him over the edge, and he called out loudly while pushing deep into her one last time.

He slowly eased his way out of her and then flopped next to her onto the bed. For her part, she was panting and weak, as if she had just fought some monstrous battle. He turned his head sideways to look at her, took in her limp, breathless form, and grinned. "You liked that, no?" he said.

She was aware of herself, suddenly, how naked she was and how exposed she had been with this man she hardly knew. This man who had buried his face in the deepest parts of her body. Who had been inside and on top of her, with her body pressed around his arousal. Who had seen her moaning and screaming and losing complete control - three times. Instinctively she clutched the blanket around her again.

"Don't go getting all shy now," he said. He had maneuvered himself so he was lying flat in the bed, his head resting on top of her pillow. His eyes were closed now, and his words came out sleepily. "This is just the beginning of what I'd like to do with you." He smiled without opening his eyes.

Brienne didn't know what to say. She looked away from him, towards some point in the middle distance, unsure of what to think about the things they'd just done but also delighted. Eventually the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile and she turned back to look at him - and he was dead asleep. Right there in her bed. _Snoring._

Well, she couldn't move him at this point, or ask him to leave. Instead she stood to blow out the candles in the room, and in the dark she made her way back to the bed. She pushed him aside slightly and he stirred but didn't wake. Then she got in and laid down beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

And so it had been for weeks now, almost every night: she would retire to her room once it got dark, and minutes later he would come casually strolling down the hallway, look to make sure no one was around to see, and then slip inside her door. And then they would revel in each other, exploring each other's bodies. His mouth caressed every corner of her, but especially that one spot in particular that always made her groan in delight. And then he would press inside her, deep and firm, and he knew how to move so that it was good for both of them. Slowly but surely, he began learning all the things she liked, the things that excited her and were sure to send her over the edge - and she learned too, about the different things she enjoyed, and the deep capacity her body had for pleasure.

One night, after he lifted his head from between her legs and she was positioning herself for him, he paused and drew himself up into a sitting position. "Want to try something new?" he asked. She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked at him, confused. He pointed to his arousal. "Do _you_ want to get on top of _me_?"

She hesitated. Of course she wanted to try something new with him - _I want to try everything with him_ , she thought - but she would be so exposed. Even now, after so many nights of him taking delight in her, after all the ways he flattered her, she was still worried about the way he viewed her body. She wasn't small and delicate like most other ladies - she was muscled and thick, and tall. Taller than him, even, by a little bit. The weight and size of her would be supremely noticeable if she were to climb on top of him and he were confronted with her entire self like that.

But he pulled her over to him, until she was kneeling next to him on the bed. Gently, he maneuvered her legs so she was positioned right over him. His mouth was pressed against her collarbone and he breathed into her skin, "I want you just like this." She wanted him like this too, she realized - that ache she felt when she needed him had returned, and she was slick with desire. Slowly she lowered herself down onto him until he was deep inside her, and he groaned. He ran his hands up and down the length of her, from her hair to her knees and all the way down her back, taking in every inch of her while she rode up and down on him, instinctively knowing how to move in a way that was delightful to them both.

His hand was on her face now, cupping it and turning her so that she was looking right at him. His other hand drifted downward, to where they were joined, and found that spot on her that was always so sensitive when he was with her. His hand stroked in time with her movements and she was rapidly losing control, her face reflecting all the sensations she was feeling. Still he looked straight into her eyes, grinning, and then he began to groan himself. When she reached her peak, throwing her head back and crying out, he was right there with her, holding her hips firmly down on him as he pressed deep into her and growled out his all-consuming pleasure.

This time she was the one flopping down in her bed, spent from the effort. He lay down next to her, trailing one finger along her side. "You looked beautiful like that, Brienne," he said as she closed her eyes. And so they began incorporating that into their nightly routine.

Outside of the two of them, however, no one at Winterfell knew about their coupling. There was an unacknowledged agreement between them to keep this to themselves, though they couldn't quite articulate why. Perhaps it was because they and the Starks had much more pressing matters on their mind, what with the fighting and the dangerous alliances throughout the Seven Kingdoms and the fact that Jon was now focusing his energy on finding Bran. Perhaps it was Brienne's reluctance to be seen as anything other than a capable knight fulfilling her duties to Lady Catelyn Stark to the end, and her fear that others would find only cruel amusement at the thought of a woman like her paired off. Perhaps it was just Tormund's quiet stoicism around anything other than battle.

Whatever it was, the two acted like distant acquaintances throughout the rest of the castle, muttering, "Please pass the bread" to each other at meals and barely looking up when one or the other sat down in a group to strategize with Jon. No one knew, and they were hiding it very well - although Tormund could become very daring when he thought no one was looking.

One evening, for example, when she arrived late to supper and nearly everyone was leaving the table as she was sitting down, he lingered for a moment as the others left the room. As he passed her on the way to the door, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'll have you moaning before long." She was almost instantly wet and aching between her legs, and that sensation stayed with her right up until he came to her room several hours later. Another time, she and he and several others were gathered in a circle around Jon and a map as he traced routes through the North and tried to figure out their next moves. Tormund had somehow maneuvered so that he was right next to her, and while all the others were distracted and poring over the map, he managed to reach his arm out and grab her from behind, fondling her for several seconds while no one else was looking. She turned to glance at him sideways and he gave her a sly grin.

And then once, in the middle of the day, she had been in the stables with Pod tending to their horses when Tormund walked in, muttering something about needing hay. Pod had generously supplied him with some and then walked around to the back of one of the stalls to feed his horse. The minute he was out of sight, Tormund had swiftly and deftly slid one of his hands down the front of her britches and found that spot that always made her quiver. With Pod still intent on his work, Tormund had stroked her for close to a minute, with her biting her lip the whole time and bracing herself against him to keep from losing all control. Finally she couldn't help it and a small moan escaped from her lips. Pod's head appeared a few seconds later from around the side of the stall, quizzical and concerned, but by that time Tormund had pulled his hand back and was quietly bundling up the hay. "It's nothing, Pod," Brienne said. "I just … tripped on the wet floor here." Tormund looked at her over the top of his hay bundle, his eyes dancing, and slipped away.

All in all, she liked it this way. She had a secret - a wonderful, delicious, delightful secret. She was getting so much pleasure every night, and no one knew. No one knew that she had this Wilding in her bed, night after night after night. She could sit astride her horse, or train out in the fields with her sword, and let her mind drift to everything they had done together, and no one was the wiser. She was no longer so one-dimensional, just an unladylike woman wielding a sword and burying her thick, strong body under armor. She had passion and pleasure in her life, and a man who seemed to want her just the way she was.


	3. Chapter 3

And now, they were out on the road. Jon was determined to find Bran, and to that end he had marshaled a part of his forces to go with him to search the North for his half-brother. Brienne, Tormund, and Sansa were all riding ahead with him, leading the troops and the cavalry and scouting ahead to see what dangers lay in their path.

They traveled a good distance that first day, and once night fell they made camp deep in the woods of the North. Jon had provided the four of them with roomy tents, and as the horses were being tied up they began setting up these sleeping quarters. It was definitely a change from being able to sleep in a bed in a room of her own at Winterfell, but compared to sleeping out in the elements it was definitely the most comfortable accommodations Brienne had ever been provided with on a quest. Jon had even thoughtfully provided camp chairs for them, so they wouldn't have to sit on the hard ground, and the tents were tall enough that she could sit in the chair without her head scraping the ceiling.

These tents, however, afforded almost none of the privacy that the rooms in the castle had. All four of them were clustered close together, for safety's sake - because they were stronger against whatever lurked out in the forest if they were near each other, and there was a far lesser chance of someone getting separated from the group and lost in the woods. But this also meant that she was in much closer quarters with Jon and Sansa than she had been before, and there was no longer any way to keep up her secret life. Or so it seemed.

She was surprised and slightly annoyed that night when Tormund pushed her tent flap open and strode inside. "What are you doing?" she whispered, standing up.

He came over to her and kissed her full on the lips. "The same thing we've been doing every night," he said, pulling her tunic down off her shoulder and beginning to move his lips on her neck.

"We can't," she hissed, pulling him away. "Not in these tents."

"Why not?" he murmured, trying to kiss her ear this time.

Again she pulled away. "Because Sansa's right there," she said, jabbing a finger behind her, "and Jon is over _there_." She pointed toward the closest corner of her tent. "And this fabric" - she was fingering the hide that made up the tent's walls - "is too thin. Anyone could hear us."

While she was speaking he had gotten his hands on her tunic again and this time he was rolling it up her torso, until her breasts were exposed. His fingers traced over her and then his mouth found its way to her nipples, and as he gently lifted the tunic over her head she found she had lost the willpower to stop him. "We'll just have to be quiet, then," he whispered to her. " _You'll_ have to be quiet." He smirked. "If that's possible."

He sat her down on the camp chair, right in the middle of the tent, and slowly, teasingly, pulled her britches off her legs and over her feet. It was cold but soon she could barely feel it, what with him kneeling between her legs and pressing his face into her, moving his mouth in all the ways she loved. His hands were on her hips, holding her steady, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep the moans from coming out too loudly. She managed to stifle herself, but her quivering body and the small noises that were escaping from her were signal enough that she was enjoying what he was doing.

They were both so focused on her enjoyment that they failed to hear the rustling outside her tent, until it was too late. Suddenly Sansa and Jon's heads popped through the tent flap, with Jon getting out, "Brienne, we wanted to ask you …" before the siblings realized what was going on and froze in their tracks.

In hindsight, it was a comical scene. Jon and Sansa were so shocked that they seemed glued to the ground, unable to move, just staring at what was going on. Sansa looked simultaneously shocked and incredulous, while Jon's expression went from surprised to … knowing? What was that look on his face?

Brienne, meanwhile, was blushing deep red and attempting fruitlessly to cover herself. She managed to throw her arms across her breasts but the rest of her was completely exposed. Tormund, for his part, was still on the ground in front of her, still kneeling. He shrugged, grinned, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as Sansa and Jon collected their wits and hastily backed out of the tent.


	4. Chapter 4

He had ended up staying the night in her tent because – well, why not? They were no longer a secret and he didn't feel the need to hide the obvious. The next morning found him going about his usual business, putting on the many layers that were necessary now that winter was here, but she stayed laying down, the pelts she slept under pulled up to her chin. How could she bear to go outside now?

Finally, when he was fully dressed, he turned around to face her. "Oh for fuck's sake," he said as she tried to hide even further under the pelts. "You have to leave this tent at some point." She shook her head no. "Who the bloody hell cares?" he asked her.

"Jon," she began. "And Sansa …"

He snorted. "That girl probably learned a thing or two last night. She'll be thanking you soon enough. As for Jon," he grinned wickedly, "I don't think he saw anything he's unfamiliar with."

It was getting light out now, she could see. Reluctantly, she got up and began dressing, with Tormund eyeing her form appreciatively until her whole body was buried under clothes and armor. She grabbed her sword last, trying to brace herself for the day ahead of them, but then just stood at the mouth of the tent, steeling herself to set foot outside.

"Go on," he said, giving her a push that sent her stumbling out into the snow. She righted herself, her sword jangling against her armor, and the commotion was loud enough to startle the horses nearby. Jon and Sansa were standing just behind the horses, preparing them for the day's journey, and they looked up right as Tormund emerged from the tent behind her. And then – _he waved at the two of them._ They both quickly looked away.

Soon, all four of them had packed up their tents and gear and loaded everything with the rest of their supplies, and their troops were marshalled behind them. Jon gave the signal – just a nod – and they all put their horses to a trot as they headed even further north.

Brienne spent the next few hours riding in silence, looking nowhere but straight ahead. She could feel Sansa's presence on her right, and Tormund on her left, but she ignored them both. Every so often she would let her eyes slide over to where Sansa was riding next to her, but then the memory of the girl's head inside her tent, her face frozen in shock, would wash over her and she would look away again.

But sometime in the early afternoon, their horses managed to separate out of the straight line they had been moving in. Brienne didn't notice at first, until the moment she glanced to her left and realized that Tormund wasn't there anymore. She turned her head around and saw that he was about fifteen feet behind her, with Jon riding beside him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Sansa was still right next to her. She began trying to slow her horse down, to get back with the others so she wouldn't have to be alone with her charge, but before she could get away Sansa broke the silence.

"Brienne …" she began.

"Yes?" Brienne said, refusing to meet her eyes.

There were a few seconds of silence. "I don't think you're making a wise choice."

Brienne's mouth tensed. The conversation had quickly gone from uncomfortable to irritating. "Oh?" she said. She hoped the sound of her voice conveyed her annoyance.

But Sansa pressed on. "We need you, Brienne. We need your strength and your bravery now. That's what you're here for. Not …"

Brienne was angry now, and she turned to look right at the girl. "Not what, Sansa? Tell me, what do you think I've done that's taken away from my service to you and your family?"

"We need you to be _strong_ ," Sansa said forcefully. "Not flat on your back with that … Wildling."

Brienne pulled her horse's reins up short, coming to a complete stop. "Why can't I have both, Sansa?" Her anger was flaring up and she was almost shouting now. "Why can't I be strong, and continue to fight for the Starks, while also choosing _that Wilding_? Whose name, by the way, is Tormund."

"I – " Sansa began, but Brienne cut her off.

"Did you even notice anything, before last night? Did you see any change in my abilities, or my willingness to carry out my oath to your mother? No! I've kept on just the same as always, with no one the wiser until you and your brother stuck your noses where they don't belong."

"I'm sorry he forced himself on you," Sansa said, "but - "

Brienne snorted. "Forced? I chose this, Sansa. I continue to choose it. Did that look like force to you?"

"I don't know," Sansa said quietly, and when Brienne looked at her, she saw a single tear run down the girl's cheek.

"Oh, Sansa," Brienne said, her voice now much softer. She had forgotten that brutality had been Sansa's only experience in this regard. Brienne was lucky: in the entire realm, she could imagine, not many other women were afforded the pleasure and the decency she had received from Tormund.

"It's not always like that," she said. "We were taught only the cruel things men could do to us. Not about the … satisfaction we could also receive, if a man is kind." Sansa was sniffling a little now, and Brienne reached her arm out and gently placed her hand on top of Sansa's. They sat like this for a few moments, in silence, their horses at a stop as the snow fell around them.

Then Sansa spoke up again, more hesitantly this time, as she spurred her horse back into a trot. "What … what was he doing to you, anyway?" Somehow, even through the snowflakes that were coming down wetly between them, Brienne could see the blush creeping up Sansa's cheeks.

She smiled as her horse began to walk again alongside Sansa. "Let me tell you a few things our mothers neglected to talk to us about …"

Fifteen paces back or so, Jon and Tormund were also riding side by side. There was an uneasy silence between them as well, although in their case it was Jon who felt more than a little uncomfortable. Tormund, for his part, seemed unbothered.

Finally Jon's voice broke through the quiet. "You and Brienne …" he began.

"Yes," Tormund said, as if that were the beginning and end of the whole story.

"How long?" Jon asked.

"Since she came to Winterfell."

Jon was failing badly at masking his surprise. "This whole time? While we were strategizing and making plans and … and you two were sneaking around the castle together?"

"Not _around_ ," Tormund said. "Mostly in her room."

This was becoming a more personal conversation than Jon had ever expected to have with Tormund, and yet his curiosity was getting the best of him. "I never expected – I mean, a woman like her …"

" … is still a woman," Tormund said firmly. "With needs and desires. And," here he grinned wickedly, "a soft body and a beautiful, wet -"

"Alright, I get it," Jon interrupted him. They rode on together, wordlessly, for a few moments more, until Jon spoke again.

"You didn't, ah, you didn't … _compel_ her, did you?"

Tormund brought his horse up short, suddenly, and when Jon turned to look at him there was anger in his eyes. "You think just because I come from north of the Wall - "

"No, that's not what I meant …" Jon tried to say.

"- that I'm one to take a woman against her will? I don't know what kinds of things you're accustomed to here in the Seven Kingdoms, but that's not a practice I've taken up."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Jon said meekly.

"Besides," Tormund said, "did that look _compelled_ to you?"

Jon looked away, mumbling, "I don't know what you mean."

Tormund snorted. "Like hell you don't." Jon was silent. "You think that was your own invention – pleasuring a woman like that?"

Even through the falling snow and the thick scruff covering Jon's face, Tormund could still make out a deep red crawling up the man's face and neck. He chuckled. "That girl was loud and … forthright. We all knew. We were all _proud_ of you." He was silent, then, for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was gentler. "She liked what you did. And she liked you, more than all the others."

Jon was struggling to keep his voice steady, lost as he was in his painful memories. "You and Brienne, then …" he began.

"It's the same," said Tormund.


	5. Chapter 5

It was inevitable. She had known this, all along – she was aware of the basic biology of men and women, but it had still been a shock to her once she was sure. For several months she had tried to excuse it away and put it out of her mind, but soon she couldn't ignore the telltale signs. Her breasts were swollen and sore, her back had begun to ache for no reason, and her waistline was slowly but gradually expanding.

Still, even when she was certain, she had avoided telling him. She was trying to find the right way to say so and she wasn't sure how he would react. They had been enjoying each other, just the two of them, but now this was serious, and permanent. It wasn't uncommon for men in this situation to just disappear, never to be heard from again, she knew.

So she mulled it over in her head, for days, trying to find the right words – and trying to figure out how she herself felt about it. She had unspooled many dreams and hopes for her future, but never had this figured into any of her imaginings. There were practical considerations, to be sure – how would she continue to fight and train? Could she still be taken seriously as a knight, or would this hamper her? Beyond that, though, was the fact that she had never even thought of herself in this way. After all, she had been told so many often how unladylike she was that she had never pictured herself in this way, in such an utterly feminine role. She assumed it would never happen to her. And yet here she was.

In the end, she hadn't needed to tell him. He had somehow figured it out himself – how, she wasn't sure, but he walked right up to her one morning as she was sparring and grasped his arms around her, picking her up off her feet. Though she was now probably half a stone heavier, he still freely lifted her in the air, twirled her around in half a circle, and then kissed her full on the mouth in front of everyone before putting her back down. He didn't have to say anything: as his hand came to rest on top of her armor, right above her midsection, he looked into her eyes and she saw his delight reflected there.

She'd had to switch to progressively larger pieces of armor, but still she'd kept up her practice. She refused to slow down until she absolutely couldn't swing a sword anymore, until her middle-heavy body could no longer move the way she expected it to. She was rapidly approaching that point now.

This night she lay flat their bed, a pillow tucked under her back to help relieve the ever-present soreness there. She could only just see the glint of his red hair across her swollen belly, but she could certainly feel his mouth against her. She was embarrassed by how much she desired him, now, like this. Though it was a nice change of pace from those first few months, when it seemed that fatigue and a vague nausea plagued her almost constantly, this felt almost unseemly. Not only was she huge, but she was also fairly certain that she should be focusing her energy on striving to cultivate some sort of maternal feelings. Yet here she was, wet and moaning like she was brand new to this.

Her first wave of pleasure had come so quickly, not long after his tongue began to caress her, and he had sensed how much more she wanted. Then her climax came twice more and still he continued, lapping his mouth against her in all the ways she liked. Her eyes were closed and one of her hands reached down to gently entwine though his hair as her release built up in her body, coursing through all her veins. She called out loudly as she reached her peak again.

He raised his head now and brought himself up alongside her, rolling her gently on her side and pulling the pillow out from beneath her. She could feel him now, hard against her, and her desire surged forward as if he hadn't already satisfied her four times tonight. They had reached the point where he could no longer reasonably get on top of her, and she felt like too much like a lumbering giant to get on top of him, but they had found that this worked, if he held her from behind. He was sliding into her now, both of them groaning at the feeling.

With his lips he was nibbling her ear now, and his left hand was tracing circles around one of her nipples while the other was rubbing her where she was most sensitive, all while he was slowly stroking in and out of her. All these sensations together at once was almost more than she could bear, and her pleasure came once more, with her moaning even more loudly than she had before. It had to be almost improper, she felt, for her to be this big, and so far along, and still enjoying their bodies together like this, but she was too far gone now to care about what she was supposed to do.

"Brienne," he growled in her ear, as she felt him grow even harder inside her. She knew how much delight he took in her, even now as his hand brushed against her belly. He was moving more quickly now, and panting, and she knew he was nearly there as well. Sure enough, he was soon calling out as his delight came and still, in this moment, his hand managed to stroke her as she felt his last deep thrusts inside her. She peaked again, one last time, right along with him.

She rolled on to her back again, panting, as he laid beside her. His hand came to rest across her stomach and she glanced down at it. In that moment, feeling the weight of him against her, she had of vision of their future together:

There was a girl, tall and strong, with gleaming strawberry blonde hair. She was fitted with tiny armor, standing in a field, swinging a sword around while Brienne taught her how to move with precision and focus. The girl was learning to ride a horse, too, and she held onto its bridles with confidence. She was brave, and steady, and determined.

And she was her father's joy. He fashioned for her all the weapons of his youth and taught her how to use them. He instilled in her fierceness and loyalty and the belief that she could do whatever she put her mind too. She would not be brought up to be ashamed of her strength, as Bienne had been. No one would dare to call her ugly or manly – her father would hear none of it. This daughter was loved fiercely.

She came back down to earth as she heard Tormund's breathing become slower and heavier. He was slipping into sleep beside her. She closed her eyes then, but before she fell into slumber she heard him mumble something next to her.

"Brienne," he was saying. "My love. The mother of my child."


End file.
